Fear the Dark
by Satansbratn
Summary: A animal, caught in the body of an walking man. Under the surface there's the urge to hunt, the desire to kill. A goddess, caught in her emotions. Under the surface there's love, hate and fear. Beware of the darkness. You never know who's lurking in it... ON HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

Titel: Fear the Dark

Author: Satansbratn

Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men and don't try to make money with this story.

Timeline: after X2

Rating: M

Summary: A animal, caught in the body of an walking man. Under the surface there's the urge to hunt, the desire to kill. A goddess, caught in her emotions. Under the surface there's love, hate and fear. Beware of the darkness. You never know who's lurking in it...

A/N: That's my first attempt to write a whole story in english. If you encounter any spelling or grammatically mistakes, I'd appreciate it if you point them out to me.

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_**Fear the Dark**_

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With a terrified scream the woman desperately tried to wriggle out of the grasp of her attacker. But the gigant didn't show any mercy, only squeezed harder until her eyes bulged a little due to the massive lack of oxygen. Helplessly the woman hung a few centimetres over the floor, only held by a strong arm. Her eyes were wide with fear and her breathing frantic. Her mouth twisted into a grimace, but no sound came over her carefully painted lips.

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_Why didn't she scream?_

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With an scowl he eased the grip at her throat and lowered his arm. The female immediately slide down the wall to the floor and came coughing to her knees, holding her perfect white neck. He stood motionless, watching her with dark, hungry eyes. Why hadn't she screamed?

„What... what do you want... with me?" Her thin, timid voice made him look up. She stared at him with wide open brown eyes. As if that look could prevent the inevitable, not just making it even more delicious.

He took a step toward her, fixed her delicate body. Pure skin, too bright for his liking. But those eyes ... So dark, so tempting.  
He caressed her cheek, leaving a red trail of fear. Her low moaning was lost in the sensation of her taste.

_Delicious. So delicate... _

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The excitement was missing, although she tasted delicious. Her quiet sounds, filled with fear, echoing in his ears made his blood boiling. Why did she not cry? Did she really think her quietness would give her something to rob him of his enjoyment? Never.  
With a quick movement he ended this misery, this disgrace to his senses.  
The last thing she saw were the dark eyes of the hunter, his teeth gleaming in the dim light of the room.

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Disgruntled he left the building, leaving only the remains of his dinner behind. The twisted, gutted body of the little blonde with those beautiful brown eyes. To her mishap, her eyes hadn't been dark enough.

Once at the street, he stopped and stared blindly into the crowd. He should really leave. Soon the old lady would wake up to find the dead body of her daughter. And he didn't want his sensitive ears to bear this fuss. Not to mention the loud sirens of police and ambulance. Of course they wouldn't be able to do anything, he had seen to that. But humans liked to cling the thinnest straws, until they finally realized what had been obvious from the beginning.  
With a grunt he withdrew from the small shop where he had invited the attractive salesgirl, to eat. He'd certainly get his dessert. Now he just had to look for the main course ...

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Suddenly he stopped, frowning. That smell ... He closed his eyes, sucking the cold air deep into his powerful lungs. Rain. Sandalwood. It smelled like her. It smelled like the goddess.

_Where was she?_

He opened his eyes, let his gaze wander over the crowd with the attention of a hunter. Where the hell was she? He had smelled her, he was sure of that. He never forgot a smell. And certainly not hers. This sweet, heady smell of innocence, purity, fear.  
He had enjoyed the smell since he had seen her the first time. That first moment on this deserted street, when he was told to get the girl and there she was, turning up with this comic guy. In that moment he had known, that he would give anything to have her. The beast inside of him wanted to feel her soft skin, taste her sweet blood. She should writhe underneath him, full of fear and pleasure. She should be his!

She was here. And he would find her. And if he had to get into a fight with that kitten Wolverine to get her.  
With a low growl he continued on his way, always following her scent.

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Rain pelted down on him, soaking his clothes, as he entered a quiet street. Her smell had led him here, weakened by the sudden change in the weather but still unmistakable. With an barely noticeable growl he stepped into the shadow of an large container and prepared to wait until his prey would appear. The ever-increasing smell of rain and sandalwood told him that he wouldn't have to wait much longer.

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Finally, it seemed like hours, the air was changing. With a jerk as he sat up and peered expectantly into the darkness.  
Steps muffled by the rain approached. He could smell her before he saw her. The goddess. She was so close, within reach.  
He approached her with the precision of a hunter.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hello there. I'm finally back. I know, I said it would only take a month or so, but things got delayed due to my studies. Big sorry to all of you.

I want to thank Beautiful Stom Munroe who encouraged me to take this more serious and also helped with the translation a bit as well as with the grammar. Thanks, dear!

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Ororo was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn't noticed the hugeshadow looming in the scant light of a solitary street light.

She concentrated on her steps, the gentle breeze that seemed to caress her legs. She had gone into town to escape the depressive atmosphere of the Mansion. Scott spent most of his time in his room, Logan, had once again hit the road, and even the professor was more occupied with himself than with the students. She was the only one who seemed not to succumb to grief. The only one who could deal with the death of her best friend.  
But as so often this impression is misleading. In the night when everyone was asleep, rain showers equal to a monsoon raged over Westchester and a lone figure stood before the simple grave stone in the garden and let the heavens grieve for her.

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„Hello beautiful."

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She stopped abruptly, feeling the goosebumps on her arms spread out. That voice. It was not possible! He was dead, overthrown by a 50 meter high building.

Slowly, she turned around and inwardly prayed she would see a drunken homeless man. Anything was better than him.

But the face she looked at was not that of a drunk fallen bachelor, who had started celebrating a little too early, but of a man she had hoped never to see again.

„Victor ..." She whispered his name, full of fear. Instinctively she stepped back, trying to get out of his immediate reach. She knew that she should try to escape, but she also knew that she wouldn't get far. He was faster than his hulking physique let on.

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He enjoyed the expression of disbelief that grazed her face. She had hoped he would not have survived the fall of that damned statue or drowned in the Hudson River. She had told herself that Wolverine had protected her from him, the animal without control, as he had fought on the head of the Statue of Liberty against him.

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„You owe me a scream ..." He stalked towards her slowly, her beautiful dark eyes always in view. He could smell it, see it in her eyes. It was the same look she had worn when he had her pressed against the ticket booth, his face only inches away from hers. Inwardly, he smiled satisfied. The goddess was scared.

With a quick motion, too quick to avoid, he raised his hand and left a fine mark on the cheek of his victim. With relish, he smelled the odor of fresh blood mixing with paralyzing fear.

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Automatically she stumbled back until her back was pressed against the rough wall. Her eyes widened a touch more as she realized her situation. She was trapped. Behind her was the wall and in front of her, certain death.

He clutched her by the waist, and let his dark, lust filled eyes roam over her body, his claws parting her thin blouse. „No. ...", she whispered, full of panic as she tried to free herself from his grip. For a short moment her eyes took on a significant white glow. Immediately he tightened the grip on her arms, the pain interrupting her concentration. „Don't even think about it. You'll be dead, before the sky gets dark." He growled, licking his lips.

His mouth went to her bare skin, remaining for several seconds on her neck. Then, with a rushing sound, he cut up her jeans; dropping the rags on the damp ground.

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_Delicate. A true goddess ..._

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He trembled with excitement as he took the glorious body before him in. He would like to do it here and now ... But he had to hold back. If he allowed his instincts to take over at this point, the fun would be over way too early and in the end she would only be lying cut open before him. And there was no way he would risk that, just because he couldn't control himself.

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With a sadistic grin he pulled her towards him and sank his teeth deep into her shoulder. Her painful groan aroused him even more as he licked the wound.

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„No ... Please ... don't ..." He didn't know why she actually begged him to stop. Her pleas would fall on deaf ears. She had known that this day would come. That he would get his claws on her one day. That day in the station, she had seen in his eyes; he would never give up. But she hadn't wanted to remember it. And now, she would pay the price.

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Ororo turned her head away and tried to escape him. But he held her like a vice clasped, pressing himself against her, as if he wanted to crush her with his weight. But that was probably the last thing he had in mind.

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With one hand he fumbled at his belt, still holding her hands in an iron-like grip. He breathed his foul breath in her face and she watched in horror as he finally managed to get rid of his heavy clothing. Ororo felt a tear run down her cheek and closed her eyes. She would not grant him this victory.

Why had she been so careless? She wanted nothing more than to die on the spot, not having to endure it. Unfortunately, it did not look as if she was going to meet this desire. At least not until he was satisfied.

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A stabbing pain made her gasp and open her eyes. Sabretooth had buried his teeth deep into her neck and she could feel warm blood running down her body. She jerked away from him, whimpering in pain as a clawed hand angrily scratched her unprotected breasts, leaving four bloody claw marks behind. He growled deep in his throat – it was all he was able to. Most parts of human language was long since lost to the animal inside of him.

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Ororo could feel herself beginning to shake as the beast-like mutant placed a hand on her hip and his sadistic grin made clear what he was going to do. In a last, desperate attempt to escape, the petite woman reared under him and tried to push his body away from her. But she had not reckoned with the quick reaction of her attacker, perhaps she had even hoped that the greed of its meaning had been obscured. With a heavy blow he threw her against the wall, causing Ororo to scream in pain. The last thing she saw before everything around her sank into darkness were dangerous gleaming teeth.

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The first thing Ororo noticed upon opening her eyes, was the silence. She cast a careful glance upon the quiet street and breathed a sigh of relief. She was alone.  
Apparently, something had startled him; otherwise, she doubted that she would be alive. Slowly, she tried to sit up and immediately fell back, groaning, on the concrete floor. It felt like her body was burning from a single wound. She just wanted to lie there until the pain subsided, but she knew she had to disappear as quickly as possible. If he came back... then she certainly wouldn't be so lucky.

Carefully, the weather manipulating mutant raised herself up on one arm and suppressed a cry of pain. In the pale light of a street lamp, she could see many unhealthy-looking scratch marks on her arms, and on her shoulder, there was a deep wound. At this sight, she could only guess how the rest of her body looked, and if her suspicions were only in the least correct, she really didn't wanted to know. The hellish burning between her legs was telling her everything she needed to know at this moment.

Slowly, tears made their way down her face. But Ororo paid them no attention, instead she gathered her tattered clothes and tried to cover herself as much as possible. With trembling knees she went on her way home and thanked the gods that, at this time, no one was out on the streets.

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As Ororo reached the massive iron gate that led to the driveway of the spacious villa, she wanted nothing more than to wash away all dirt left behind by that beast and take a hot bath. With a tired movement, she deactivated the security system and entered the premises. The last thing she could use right now was to awaken the entire house.

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With a low moan Ororo cautiously sank lower into the hot water and hoped it would calm her aching limbs a little. She had not thrown a single glance in the mirror since she had entered her room an hour ago. She knew that she wouldn't been able to endure the sight.

Her hand trembled as she washed herself in the shower; scrubbing the blood from her skin, and trying to eliminate the traces of violence. No one could know what had happened, no one was allowed to consider her weak. She was a goddess, a warrior. And nobody, not even a wild animal, could submit a goddess to humanity.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I want to thank Beautiful Storm Munroe who also helped with the last chapters. Thanks a lot!

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„_Scream for me ..."_

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„Ororo?"

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Startled, Ororo opened her eyes and shuddered, automatically feeling her breath become more hectic, as always, when someone approached or even touched her. For one, short moment she saw the huge shadow of her memory, her nightmares hunched over her. Cruel claws that flashed in the light; that could inflict so much harm. Not only leaving physical scars behind.

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Just then, a gentle voice brought her back to reality, and she turned her head to look around the dinning hall at the speaker. Scott looked at her worriedly and Ororo noticed that some of the students and the professor were also looking at her. The students stealthily hid behind their cereal boxes, and Charles furrowed his brow.

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Did he suspect anything? Had she not been paying attention enough and he had managed to track down her thoughts? What did he know ... She bit her lip hard, forcing herself not to think these thoughts, to no prevail. What would happen if he learned it? When he learned that she was not the strong fighter that she should be?

He would act on it, that was for sure. Charles was not a man who pushed problems aside, he was used to grabbing them by the hair and fixing them. He would consider whether he wanted to have someone like her in his school. Someone who was too weak to protect herself, let alone the children. He would ask her to pack her things and leave the only place she had ever considered home in order not to endanger the students. In order not to cause his lifework to alter. This thought scared her. How should she survive out there in this world, this city? She couldn't. Not with the knowledge that she had been too weak, and disappointed everyone she loved.

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„Is everything all right, Ororo?" His gentle voice pulled her out of her thoughts – she wisely hid as much of them as possible – and she turned her gaze to the man who had always been something like a father to her. His eyes rested on her neck, piercing the light cloth that covered her skin. As if he knew what was hidden underneath. Both he and the others hadn't seen at least the more serious injuries. It was the morning after the attack. She had immediately went to Hank and had made him swear that he would tell no one about it. Of course he had asked what happened. Especially, since every time he touched her, she had flinched. He had received no real answer, only flimsy excuses.

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Now Ororo tried to smile, even though she knew she failed. She hadn't smiled much during the last two weeks. There was no reason to. „Of course, Charles. I just didn't sleep well and it seems I dozed off." At least this time it wasn't a lie. She hadn't been able to sleep, had been held awake by memories of sharp claws and grim growls.

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„You have not slept well in a long time, Ororo." His voice was soft, but she could clearly hear the request in it. He wanted her to talk to him, to open up to him. He had always been very persistent.

„It's just the stress. And... I miss her." Although it was an excuse, her throat seemed to tighten as she mentioned the woman they still mourned. From the corner of her eye, Ororo saw Scott's face harden, like at the push of a button, and saw how he tried to keep his composure. No one was surprised when he excused himself saying he had a lesson to prepare, and literally fled from the room. From the unspoken words and the haunting memories.

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Ororo knew that Charles was still watching her as she eyed the white tabletop before her with a weary sigh. White like innocence. She almost laughed out loud. The only one innocent in this house were the children who still knew nothing about the hard life as a mutant. She, Scott, the professor and Logan, were least of all innocent. They had let one of their own die. The magnificent X-Men had failed. _She_ had failed. She had watched Jean die. Had simply watched as her best friend drowned to death and had even then hoped that Jean would escape the floods at the last minute.

„Jean made her own decision. No one could have changed it." Ororo lifted her head with a jerk and glared at the man in front of her with so much anger in her eyes that you'd think he would drop dead over the table any moment.

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„How about you would stop scrabbling in my head, _professor_?" The sharpness in her voice was nothing compared to the effect that the formal form of address ignored for years caused. Charles' face hardened, and she could see clearly how he clenched his teeth, trying desperately not to show his hurt about this emotional coldness.

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„When you stop blaming yourself for all evil in the world." He looked her straight in the eye. His tone was harsh and not as gentle as usual when he spoke to her. He barley managed to maintain his composure and just barley stopped himself from yelling at her and taking his anger over her god damned games out on her.

But what frightened Ororo the most – and chased a shiver down her spine – were his words. As if he suspected something. As if he knew something.

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For one brief moment she held her mentor's gaze, then she to turned her head away. She had known Charles almost her entire life and still wasn't able to bear this look for more than a few seconds. He seemed to look right into her soul and sought to know all of her secrets within a few seconds. He seemed to read her like an open book. It was unbearable. Without sparing him another glance, Ororo rose from her chair and stepped towards the door.

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„We are not finished yet, Ororo."

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The usually amiable, gentle voice now echoed imperiously through the room, and the white haired woman paused with her hand on the handle.

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Slowly, with a surprised, almost incredulous look she turned around. It wasn't often someone demanded something from her and she would have expected it least of all from him. He dared to command her? He, who had failed to save one of their own ordered her? It was downright ridiculous.

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_I don't have to answer to you, my child._

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Charles stared at the young woman before him, virtually pinning her down with his gaze. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted that the few students who had been sitting at the table, were now gone, too. Secretly he was thankful that none of the children had to see how their beloved professor lost his temper and let himself be provoked in such a manner by Ororo.

Her dark eyes glared at him so angrily that Charles was afraid Ororo would jump for his throat with extended claws that very second. But she would never do that. Of course not. She respected him.

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Finally, Ororo lowered her head. He was right. She was angry at those who had let Jean die. But mostly she was angry at herself. „I'm sorry, Charles. I shouldn't have allowed my emotions to get out of control."

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He gave her a warm smile and held his hand out in her direction. „How about a cup of tea, my child?"

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Wilderness. Nothing but white, pristine wilderness. The right environment for a hunter, a seeker. That was the only thing that interested the man who stomped through the deep snow. His boots were white and fine ice crystals hung down from his stetson. It seemed that he had been out in the freezing cold of Canada for a while. In search of his past, the hunt for his life.

On a small hill, he stopped, lifted his head toward the clear sky. The air was icy, and cut the delicate skin on his face, freezing the blood as soon as it left the warmth of his body, but he didn't seemed to care. Perhaps he didn't even noticed it.

For one moment he stood as still as a statue, and you could only tell by the twitching of his right eye that he observed his surroundings closely.

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It made no sense. He tried to escape the pain. But no matter where he was, or what he did, she came back and haunted him, again and again.

She. _Jean_. The woman who had managed to enchant him from the first moment they had met, and who had aroused desire in him. Desire that would never be satisfied. She was dead, carried away by the waves of destruction.

The tip of his cigar glowed in the dark. A fine column of smoke rose into the clear sky. Why had he done nothing to save her? He told everyone how much she had meant to him and yet he hadn't even tried to save her.

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After a moment, he continued on his way. But he could not concentrate on what he was looking for. Why did he really stumble through this God-forsaken country? What did he hope to gain? His past, maybe? Or, did he just want to escape the grief, the pangs of guilt? And, would he ever return to Westchester? What should keep him there? Certainly not Jean. He hadn't visited her grave once. It would have made everything more real. The pain was too much as it was, and what would it gain him to mourn her and his forgotten life? Only more pain.

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Logan couldn't find peace that night. He was thinking of Jean. Again. But it wasn't just her image alone, that wouldn't let allow him to sleep. There was something else. He just didn't know what. Something from his past? Or something in his future?


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